Lewis felt a tightness in his heart when questioned.
Informants?
Assistants?
Bloody hell! Where would he get informants and assistants from?
In most cases, he could barely support himself, let alone have surplus funds to share with others.
If he really had to talk about informants, it would only be a few childhood friends who were doing quite well now.
Occasionally, Lewis could glimpse a corner of high society from conversations with them, then take it back, process it a bit, turn it into news and submit it to the newspaper.
Apart from that, everything he relied on for a living was just a notebook, the appreciation of a few newspaper editors, and that little trick of 'waterfall storytelling.'
But even so, in public, he couldn't lose face, especially in front of a diplomat. Even if he were a beggar, he'd have to carry himself with the dignity of the king of beggars.
